


Panacea

by Lacrimation (Labyrinthine_Elysium)



Series: Nostrum [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Car Sex, Dacryphilia, Extremely Underage, Incest, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex on the Impala, Somnophilia, Underage Dean, but not very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9860972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Labyrinthine_Elysium/pseuds/Lacrimation
Summary: It’s been 6 years since the fire and Mary died. John is building Dean into the perfect little soldier (and fucktoy).Or, where John fucks Dean on the hood of the Impala. Then a few days later, drugs Dean and has sex with him while he's unconscious.Same universe as Nostrum. Can be read separately.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Panacea: a solution or remedy for all difficulties or diseases
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to ThefangirlingBread for requesting this continuation.
> 
> Dean is 10. I am a bad person. And I'm not sorry.

Sometimes, when Daddy is watching the news, looking for signs for something to hunt, he’ll make Dean do his training.

It’s pretty standard stuff. Sit-ups, pushups, running. It’s really the sit ups that get Dean. It’s not that they’re hard. It just, that if Daddy is watching TV, he makes Dean do them with Daddy inside of him.

Daddy’ll nestle himself inside him, sitting on the floor, both of their legs bracketed around the other. Then he’ll have to complete all of his reps.

He can feel himself get tighter, the pressure is really overwhelming as all of his muscles contract. 

Daddy loves it. Sometimes a little too much because Dean will try to be doing his sit ups and Daddy’ll buck up into him. When Daddy does that, it makes Dean’s vision go out for a sec and he falls back to the floor without making it to the top.

Those reps don’t count.

Squats are really hard too. He has to keep Daddy inside of him while going up and down. It sounds easy, but he can’t fully stand up without Daddy slipping out. His thighs burn so bad and Daddy makes him do squats until he can’t anymore. 

Which pretty much means until Dean’s legs give out. Then Daddy will finish off inside of him.

It feels good when Daddy comes inside of him. It’s like being given a hug on the inside. Except, Dean supposes, _he’s_ the one giving Daddy a hug.

He likes Daddy being inside him. It’s way better than a plug.

Sammy lives with Bobby now. He’s a good kid. Dean misses him terribly, but Daddy says that one boy is enough to deal with and train up. That he doesn’t have time for two boys goofing off and getting everyone killed.

So, it’s just him and Dean. On the road.

“ _Ah!_ ” Dean lets out a quiet muffled gasp as the Impala goes over a particularly bumpy part of the road. There’s a plug inside him, which has a weird little pump that’s pressing against what Daddy calls his button.

He swallows in either nervousness or anticipation, he’s not sure which. He knows from experience and Daddy’s bulge what will soon happen.

Daddy’s smile is palpable. He loves driving over those on purpose. Dean has learned that over the years.

He’s also learned that Daddy loves fucking Dean in the Impala. In it, on it. Bending him over the trunk of the car, or laying on the hood. A couple of times they did it against the side of the Impala.

Dean’s face was pressed against the window, his hands behind his back like he’d seen in cop movies, Daddy holding them in one hand. His butt sticking out as Daddy pushed in and out of him, a hand under his hips to make sure he stays in place, at the right angle.

Soon, they’ll pull over on some abandoned road and Daddy will take him there. If it’s raining, they’ll do it in the car. If it’s not raining, he’ll be bent over the hood, cheek pressed against the metal. Rocking the car back and forth.

Sometimes the Impala was too hot to do that. So Daddy would lay a blanket down and have Dean lay on top of him, back to chest. Daddy would hold his legs open and thrust up into him. Or sometimes they would stand and Daddy would hold his hips and rut into him.

Daddy is too strong for Dean to be able to keep his hips back, so Daddy has to help him. If he didn’t, Daddy’s thrusts would knock Dean over and then Daddy would be cold.

The Impala starts to slow. Dean can see a road up ahead. Probably an old logging road that no one uses anymore. Even if they did it’s after five.

Dean has conflicting thoughts about these roads. They’re horrible quality, potholes everywhere. It takes forever to even go a mile and by that time Dean feels so hot and uncomfortable with the plug jolting into him with every bump.

Or washboard roads. He hates those. It practically makes the plug vibrate inside of him and he can’t control his voice anymore.

Squirming makes it worse and better. Worse because there is no better position. Better because the more he squirmed the faster Daddy would pull over.

This road isn’t too bad compared to some and they pull over off the side of the road.

Daddy goes around to his side of the car, where he’s halfway out. Daddy pulls him all the way out, whipping him around so he’s pressed against the side of the car. Pulling Dean’s pants down, he slips out the plug and tosses it in the car, slamming the door shut.

Daddy runs his hands up and down his body. Down his thigh, skimming around his groin down to his knee. Back up, splaying over his chest. He can’t help it when he bucks back involuntarily. He’d tried touching himself like this, but it didn’t have anywhere near the same effect. Daddy had to do it for him.

An arm bracketed around Dean’s shoulder, a head buried in his back with breath coming in heated puffs against him.

A snap, squelch and slick stroking sounds came from behind him. Dean’s chest heaved with what he knew was coming next.

A slippery heat rubbed against his opening, leaving a cold wet trails exposed to the air. Dean’s hands clenched, trying to find something to grab onto as a shiver rolled down his spine. He panted, almost feeling dizzy with anticipation.

“Ready, baby?” A quiet growl inquired.

Dean nodded his head minutely, trying to catch his breath. “Yes, Daddy.”

A hushed, stuttered gasp broke out of Dean when Daddy finally pushed himself in. Dean told himself to relax. To let it in. It was bigger than the plug. It was warm and pulsing and everything the plug wasn’t.

A long constant, needy whine resonated from Dean’s throat like a drone. Slowly as Daddy pushed in further and further.

Then Daddy switch directions, pulling out, out.

Dean doesn’t know why, but he loved that feeling. Every nerve was overcome with the sensation. 

The thrusts became stronger, harder. Dean tried to stay still and just take it.

“Move for me, baby.” Dean nearly moaned at the growled command. Sometimes Daddy wanted him really still, but sometimes he was allowed to move.

Dean pushed his hips back against each of Daddy’s thrusts, a moan being punched out with each one.

“Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah. _Daddy_.” A particularly hard thrust had Dean’s knees buckling, almost sinking to the ground had Daddy not been there to catch him.

“Whoa there.” Daddy chuckled. 

A few pats on his tush and Daddy slips out of him. The little groan as the tip of Daddy pops out of him doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does the whine at the odd feeling of being empty.

“Daddy?” Dean wiggles his hips, as if to entice an action.

A chortle comes before he feels himself being scooped up, being carried and set down in front of the car.

Daddy pushes his chest down onto the hood of the Impala.

“Spread ‘em.” The command is follow through without hesitation, with a practiced ease.

The pressure is back and _mmmm_ , ah. That full pressing pleasure is back. It’s like a relief. Pressing on his button like nothing, but Daddy can.

Daddy starts bucking into him, harder and harder now that the hood of the Impala is keeping his hips back for Daddy to thrust into. 

It’s so hard to keep his legs spread, they just want to curl in, it feels so good, so overwhelming. They do curl up, but Daddy is still holding his hips, so they have nowhere to go but up.

Daddy laughs and goes harder, changing something in the angle so that-

“ _Ahh! AH. Daddy~_ ” It’s too much. It’s too much.

Dean is practically crawling up the Impala to get the pressure away from his button. It’s too much. He just- he _can’t_.

“ **Dean.** ” Daddy growls, not like before. It’s a warning and a command. Dean freezes, he’s not supposed to do that.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Dean pants. Trying to get the words out between gasps.

He’s on his hands and knees on the hood of the Impala, trying to keep still. 

Daddy roughly pulls his hips back. Once. Twice.

“Come on, Dean. Keep your hips up.” Daddy growls above him.

Dean is _trying_ , but Daddy keeps pressing down on his shoulders, shoving him down into the car hood. He feels a little embarrassed, his back is so arched with his rump up in the air. 

They’ve never been seen before, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen. The thought makes Dean’s heart race a little faster.

Daddy is pressing all of his weight down on Dean, angling in from above. Hands dig into his shoulders, yanking him back over and over, deeper and deeper back onto his Daddy. His hips stay up because there’s nowhere else for them to go, but to push back up, grinding against his Daddy as close as they can get.

His knees become trapped in between his Daddy’s as a warm weight lays itself over Dean. Trapping him in heat. A hand slips between his thighs.

“ _Ah! Mmmmm._ ” It’s too much and he doesn’t know where to go. Trying to press himself back, away from the burning hand, only to be thrust back into the inescapable grip.

Dean is getting close, but Daddy is too. He knows from the deep, grinding thrusts. Daddy is trying to get as deep as possible. To feel Dean as fully as possible.

“ _Daddy_ , I’m-I’m” Dean tries to say.

“I know.” The hot breath glides along Dean’s neck. The burning hand moves faster, pressing harder.

Tear prickle in his eyes as he squeezes them down tight. His entire body clenching as he comes. One burst. Another. And another.

His entire body goes limp. Breaths force their way out of him like a prison break. Rash, rugged and ruthless.

The tears slip from his eyes. If he thought like everything felt like too much before, he didn’t know what to call this.

It took everything not to squirm away from Daddy’s hard, precise thrusts.

“There they are.” Daddy rasps. Lifting Dean’s face so he can kiss the tears away, licking the salt from his lips.

Daddy becomes more brutal, forcing Dean’s legs further apart so his little boy is smooshed on the hood of the Impala. Grinding the sensitive parts between his legs down _hard_ on the once cold metal.

“ _Good boy. Yeah. You’re so fucking good for me._ ” 

Then Daddy _growls_ and shoves in as hard as he can. Holding. Holding. 

Dean can feel Daddy twitching inside of him. Emptying himself far inside of him with each pulse.

A breath is released against Dean’s face. A breath that Daddy was holding.

“You did good, baby boy. So good.” Daddy pants against him, resting for a moment more before thrusting into him hard a few more times, before slowing down. 

Kisses are pressed into Dean’s face as Daddy continues rocking into him. A hot mouth engulfs his, dominating his. Leaving no option, but to lie there and take the ravishing. A hot hand stroking up and down his body.

Daddy keeps rocking into him slowly until he lets out an irritated sigh, grinding into him harder.

“’kay, Dean. We need to go.” With that he gives a last hard buck, before easing out with a wet pop.

Dean pushes himself off of the car, going to pull up his pants before Daddy stops him. A quick wipe down of the Impala’s hood and Dean’s little boy, Daddy goes around back into the car, pulling Dean to the driver’s side with him. 

Once Daddy is settled and pushes the seat back, he pulls Dean onto his lap. Sitting sideways so that his feet rest on the passenger seat. After prompting to arch up, Dean feels Daddy sliding back into him.

He used to be able to sit facing forewords, but now he’s too tall. Besides, it’s comfortable being curled into his Daddy’s chest. His Daddy can’t fit all the way inside him from this angle, but he still has that nice fullness that would be missing otherwise.

They only do this when it’s really dark or there’s nothing around for hundreds and hundreds of miles. Dean has no idea how Daddy does it, it’s like he never sleeps. But Dean gets really tired, especially after Daddy takes care of him.

Night is coming and Dean sleeps until Daddy wakes him up for dinner and to move to whatever motel they’re staying in for the night.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, after a brutal hunt, John throws his duffle on the bed, before digging out a little bottle of pills.

John knew he didn’t need to. That he didn’t need to drug Dean anymore. But sometimes he couldn’t help himself. It never really was about _need_. He _wanted_. 

And every once in a while, he would have an urge. An urge to take Dean this way. Unconscious, innocent. Unable to fight or to moan. Just to lie there and take it.

It was usually after those hunts that he never really wanted to remember, but always made note of. There was something about the control, something about taking without giving.

The skeevy motel room looked just like any other. Two queens, as was standard.

His baby boy took the little white pill with no complaints. Didn't even ask what it was for. Just watching the gulps of water pulse the pill down his baby’s throat made him get hard.

He helped Dean through his bedtime routine. Which usually would be John pressing those little hips against the sink as he ground against his son’s firm ass.

But tonight was special. He wanted to make it last. Wanted to hold off on all of it until it was time.

They usually went to bed at the same time, but these nights were different.

“Give Daddy a kiss, baby.”

A chaste kiss goodnight was all it was. Then John stood to walk away.

“You’re not sleeping?” Dean asked, rubbing his eyes. He almost sounded disappointed.

No matter how many times he gave Dean a sleeper, it never stopped being effective.

“In a little bit. I need to do some research.” 

“Mm-kay. Night.” That seemed to settle that, as Dean nodded and leaned to give his father another kiss.

“Good night.”

 

* * *

 

John waited.

And waited.

Just thirty minutes felt like torture, but that made it all the better in the end. Finally, it was time.

He always did his tests, making sure Dean was really under. A loud clap didn’t even cause a stir. Ripping off the blankets and there was barely a twitch.

_Perfect._

Crawling on the bed, John wraps an arm around Dean, sleeping sweetly on his side with his arms tucked against him. He slips a hand down to cup Dean’s ass firmly. Fingers pressing along the canyon between the cheeks, until he feels the plug. He rolls the end of it, hearing it make a slick squelching noise. 

The plug is a little smaller than he would normally have Dean wear, but he wants a bit of something extra tonight and it wasn’t like his baby boy was going to complain about it.

Another minute and John can’t take it anymore. He frees his cock, slicks it up, rips Dean’s pants and underwear off, tearing out the plug, and flinging it away. 

John pulls his baby’s ass up to present to him, spreading his legs wide, _wide_. He holds them open with his knees.

The little, wet hole practically begs him to tear it open. And as a man who knows _exactly_ how good it will feel, he doesn’t hesitate.

Like a savage, he presses himself in, in. Using his weight to press all the way in.

_Fuck, that’s tight._

He pushes Dean’s legs out wider. One day he might add to Dean’s training regimen so that he can do the splits on his Daddy’s cock.

John stares down at the small hole stretched obscenely over his cock. Rocking in and out watching himself move through the tight entrance.

He pulls out his length until only the head remains inside, before slamming back in. He pounds away relentlessly. Slick, wet slapping sounds reverberate through the room.

Panting, he rolls his hips, letting his hands rest on the cruxes between his boy’s ass and thigh. Squeezing the flesh in his grip, he slips Dean’s legs closed. Sitting back with a guiding hand on the boy’s chest, he helps the child flop against his chest. 

He replaces his hands to the back of his son’s knees to raise and lower his sleeping boy on his cock.

Slowly, letting the sinking, gripping weight swallow him, before bucking him off, lifting him into the air, before letting him sink down again.

This used to be easier when Dean was younger, lighter, but John has found the added weight helped press his member all the way to the base.

John ground up into the tightness, burrowing his head in Dean’s neck. Feeling the pulse of his heartbeat through his skin. It was still calm. Tranquil.

John leans back, taking the boy’s weight onto his chest. A hand creeps up to the child’s face, turning it towards him.

_So peaceful._

John bucks up unintendedly, tracing lines on his son’s face.

_So innocent._

He squeezes his eyes shut, grabbing the boy’s hips and thrusting up into them relentlessly. 

_My baby boy. My beautiful baby boy. Mine. Always mine._

Dean was a little bigger now, but he had only grown into himself. He was so willing to do anything to make his Daddy happy and John was going to take every advantage of it.

_Forever._

He was never going to let this go. Not as long as he could help it.

Flipping them over, John shadowed over Dean’s back, shoving himself in as fast and hard as he could. Seeking his release in the only cavern he wished to seed.

He felt it coming. Building. Past what he could control. He was too far gone. Couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

But _God_ , he wanted to. He was going to pump his son full of cum. 

Grinding his way through rough thrusts, he came in that perfect channel. Clapping against the firm ass that had fleshed up so nicely. Giving him more to grab, to squeeze, to rut against.

John gradually came down from his high. Nuzzling his face against his pretty, little Dean. Irritating the sensitive, young skin with his days old stubble.

Nipping at the tender flesh of his baby’s neck, sucking lightly at the skin. Nothing that anyone would notice in the morning. No, the real marks were lower.

Palming a hand on Dean’s chest and one in between his hip bones, John rocked into the wet heat. It still clung to him trying to ring out more and more of him.

He slips out slowly, watching himself pop out, cum and lube leaking out obscenely.

He rubs himself against Dean, smearing the cum and lube all over his ass and John’s balls, until the oversensitivity gets to him.

John wipes them down a little, knowing that Dean will leak lube all night without a plug, but his baby needs some time without it. Besides, the oil clings to the skin, making it soft and keeping it slick.

Arranging them so they’re both sleeping on their sides, John tucks Dean into him. After so many years, he’s finally taught Dean how to sleep in the same position all night, unless otherwise moved. 

The sleeper keeps Dean still for tonight, though. 

John threads his dick through Dean’s legs, just barely pressing against the reddened hole. His baby is like his own little heater, keeping him warm all through the night.

John is already looking forward to tomorrow. The sleepers make Dean groggy and dazed for hours after he wakes up. Making him unabashed and careless, moving in whatever way John leads him without the slightest bit of embarrassment.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Dean complains of a sore bottom. That’s okay, though. Daddy will massage it better.


End file.
